


Sleeping until the fading light

by Petra



Category: Bat Boy: The Musical - O'Keefe/Farley/Flemming, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-09
Updated: 2005-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman takes in a boy whose parents turned him out and trains him to be the next Robin. The twist is that the boy has bat DNA, which gives him some superhuman powers. Then, the Joker breaks out of Arkham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping until the fading light

**Author's Note:**

> This manipulates the timeline of Bat Boy, who actually first appeared in 1992.  
> In the timeline I have posited:  
> Batman - Bruce Wayne  
> Nightwing - Dick Grayson (former Robin)  
> Oracle - Barbara Gordon (former Batgirl)  
> Batgirl - Cassandra (Cain)
> 
> Tim Drake has been semi-retired from the superhero business for several years.
> 
> Notes for those unfamiliar with Bat Boy: The Musical -- Bat Boy was created by the Weekly World News, who began reporting on his appearance and occasional captures. A few years ago, a musical was written about him, in which he was adopted by the Parker family, named Edgar, and taught to speak. He proved extremely intelligent. Shelley Parker, the daughter, fell in love with him. They had a romantic interlude in the woods shortly before it was revealed that Bat Boy was secretly the Parkers' biological child, whereupon he killed his father. In the show, his father also kills him, but Bat Boy should be harder to get rid of than that.

_He has suffered and now it's your turn.  
You are here not to laugh, but to learn.  
Listen to his ungodly shriek,  
Watch what they put him through.  
Heed the tale of a filthy freak --  
Who's just like you!  
\-- Bat Boy: The Musical_

~^..^~

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Alfred Pennyworth said to himself, under his breath. "Sir," he said aloud, signaling his presence in case the newcomer had distracted master Bruce from the monitors. Certainly the boy was several standard deviations away from master Dick, or even Miss Stephanie. Blonde hair and femininity had been odd enough for the toughs of Gotham. Alfred wondered how they would react to a Robin whose ears rivaled those of Batman's cowl.

"Alfred," master Bruce said, pushing his cowl back. "This is --"

"Edgar," said the boy, his accents distinctly outside the bounds of Gotham and tending more toward Eton of all places. "How do you do?" He bowed, sweeping his heavy green cape back gracefully.

Alfred carefully betrayed no surprise. "Quite well, master Edgar, thank you. What will you be having for breakfast, sir?"

Bruce glanced at Edgar, who blushed to the tips of his considerably odd ears. "I would greatly enjoy steak tartare, if it is available."

That merited a blink. "As you like, sir. And for you, master Bruce?"

"Waffles, I think, Alfred, would be sufficient."

~^..^~

"Edgar Parker," said Oracle in Batman's ear. "Where did you find him?"

"He was in the sideshow," and only Batman would fail to acknowledge the irony of that. "He found me, more or less."

"They seem to do that, don't they." Oracle scrolled further in the file. "He's from West Virginia. Father deceased, mother and sister reported him missing, metahuman abilities observed by local authorities before he made his escape. What's the cover identity for him?"

"How difficult would it be to erase proof of his existence?"

Oracle grimaced at her readouts. "It would be much harder than Batgirl. He's had a lot of run-ins with various scientists, starting with Thomas Parker and the sheriff of Hope Falls, West Virginia and moving on from there. There are probably ten different entries in different labs proving his existence." She sighed. "So it's possible, but maybe not the best task for a new Robin. I presume you're training him."

"Yes."

"The reports all discuss his meta abilities -- and his diet." She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose the fast healing, flexibility, and strength will be useful, at the cost of a lot of beef."

"Wayne Industries could issue a report saying that they had found him and were researching him," Batman suggested.

"They could, but --" Oracle peered at a picture of the boy, taken in unflattering light. "Misdirection might be a better tactic. I'll see what I can work up and send it to you tomorrow."

"Batman out."

She lifted her glasses to rub her eyes. "Jeez, Bruce. You'd think you were the one raised in a cave. Maybe the meta can teach you to say thank you."

~^..^~

"I know you're busy, but you could really help this kid." Nightwing's voice had all the weight of an elder sibling trying to coerce good behavior out of a kid brother. Tim winced.

"Look, I'm almost done with my thesis. Can't it wait a month?"

"It's hurting his fighting style," Nightwing said. "Batman doesn't want him leaving the country with the biometric systems on the borders. He's a meta."

Tim sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling the unaccustomed weight of familial obligations. "I'm not a meta."

"Nope, but my short-pants fit him like leggings, too." He could hear the smirk in Nightwing's voice. "He could use some help from someone more his size."

"What about Batgirl?"

"She's helping with the speed, but you've got more experience working with metas who aren't used to their powers."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Tim lied, already opening his suitcase. "How long will you need me?"

"A couple weeks at least, to start with. You may have to help him break some patterns."

"Got it. I'll be there tonight."

~^..^~

The tabloid headline blared: "Bat-Child Spotted in Gotham! Spawn of Batman?!" with an accompanying drawing that resembled neither Batman nor the new Robin.

"Perfect," Oracle said, grinning at a stack of copies.

~^..^~

Tim could hear Dick's laughter in his head, and some dumbass comment about how the next Robin would have to be an honest to god midget to follow up on him and -- Edgar. Right. He was maybe three and a half feet tall, and it was a good thing he could bench-press four times his weight, or he'd have trouble opening doors. The kid didn't look like an Edgar or fight like an Edgar, though he sounded like one. "Okay," Tim said after a couple of rounds. "Water break."

"Do you mind if I put on the radio?" Edgar asked. The ingratiating smile accompanying this would have been much more effective if he didn't have the fangs.

"No, it's fine." Tim sat on the mats to stretch out.

"...Now, I know there's somebody out there," said the voice on the radio, rich and plummy in a particularly grating way, "somebody who needs healing. I sense your distress! You've got a sin within!"

This was at least five seconds more of evangelical talk radio than Tim had ever seen anyone willingly listen to outside of a Gotham taxi. He was on the verge of suggesting the station he preferred, but Edgar seemed enraptured by the preacher's voice, and it seemed impolitic. After an impassioned plea for money, the program changed to a hymn, and Edgar sang along in a reedy little voice, as if he had forgotten Tim's presence entirely.

"You don't want to let your muscles get too cold," Tim said, hoping to break the flow of weirdness.

"Oh -- oh. I am sorry." Edgar blushed. Against the backdrop of the monitors in the Batcave, it was an interesting illustration of his capillaries. He started moving again, climbing with that definite meta advantage that made him more difficult to challenge.

"I'm sendin' forth healing to all you souls touched by Jesus," said the preacher on the radio.

"How's your meditation coming?" Tim asked.

Edgar looked down at him from a stalactite. "I am still learning how to pray."

Tim shifted into a Sun Salutation. "That's not really what I meant," in a pause between stances. "Meditation is a different discipline." He turned off the radio.

"No!" Edgar launched himself down onto Tim's chest, knocking him over. The fangs that seemed weird before were positively feral and way too threatening for a heartbeat before the kid came back to himself and got up. "I do apologize, mister Drake, but I enjoy that program a great deal."

Tim lay on the floor, letting the cool stone clear his head. "Do you go to church, Edgar?"

"When I can." The kid's face was fervent and bizarre. "I believe Jesus died for my sins, and it is only polite to thank him. But --" a shadow of remembered pain crossed his face "-- they tend to catch me when I go, so I can only listen to the radio safely."

"Okay." Tim got up. "Go work on the rings for a while. I need to make some notes."

"Of course, sir." Edgar went off to the equipment as politely as Alfred would have.

Tim made a note in his copy of Edgar's file: _Explosive temper, needs anger management (Huntress?). Religious convictions may prove problematic._ He then sent the notes to Oracle, certain that she would keep them private from everyone who did not need to know.

~^..^~

"Batman," Oracle said over the comm, just barely audible over the wind noise.

Batman paused on the next roof in his route. Batgirl branched off in her own direction, staying above street level. "I'm listening."

"The Joker broke out of Arkham at noon."

"Check their stocks of Thorazine."

Oracle laughed bitterly. "I'm sure they have plenty. The word is that Harleen Quinzel went missing from her practice, three days ago."

"So they're together."

"It seems likely. And another missing persons report you might be interested in --"

"What?"

Oracle hesitated. "Robin isn't patrolling with you tonight, is he?"

"No. Only Batgirl."

"There's a child missing from his suburban home. His name is Thomas Parker, and his mother is Shelley Parker."

"Any sightings of the Joker in the area?"

A few keystrokes came across the calm, out of place in the Gotham skyline. "None."

"I'll look into it. Batman out."

~^..^~

"Hold that pose," Dick ordered, and Edgar complied, doing a handstand on the uneven bars until his arms started to shake. "How much longer can you stay there?"

"Not long," Edgar said through clenched teeth.

"Thirty seconds. Then dismount, and tuck tighter this time. Roll on your shoulders."

Tim came clattering down the stairs. "Edgar, you've got to be crazy. How could you not tell us you had a child?"

Fifteen seconds early, Edgar's hands gave way, and he fell to the mat, hardly remembering to roll at all. "What do you mean?"

"What's this about, Tim?" Dick asked.

By the time they joined him at the monitors, Tim had pulled up information on Shelley Parker: where she lived, where she was born, her parents, and most of all her three-month-old child. Her driver's license was on file -- a pretty girl, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to Edgar. Her child's hospital records showed distinctive pointed ears and strange, early dentation.

Dick looked from the pictures to Edgar. "Is she your wife?"

Tim scowled. "No. His sister."

"Oh, God, no." Edgar leaped at the screen, tears running down his pallid face, but Dick tackled him. Instead of fighting back, he curled into a little ball and began raking at his face with his sharp nails.

Dick caught at his wrists. "Stop it, Edgar. You have to explain."

"I didn't know! I didn't know. Oh, God, forgive me." He bled from long scratches down his cheeks. "I didn't know she was my sister, then. She was the only person who loved me. I left as soon as I found out because I did not want to hurt her, or change her life. I didn't know there was a child. Oh, God, no."

"You had sex with your sister?" Dick asked, his face a picture of revulsion.

"His name's on the birth certificate," Tim said. Edgar only wailed and put his hands over his face.

"Dick? Tim?" Barbara's voice hailed them from the computer. "Close the damn files."

"Why weren't we informed of this?" Dick asked her.

Barbara glared at him. "No one was, so calm down. Batman's dealing with it. Close the files, let Edgar listen to his radio, and everybody get some rest."

Tim blinked. "What does rest have to do with anything?"

"When Bruce gets back, I'm sure he'll inform you as necessary. Oracle out."

Dick and Tim looked at each other over Edgar's head, sharing a look of bewilderment. For a few moments, there was no sound in the cave but the whirr of computers and Edgar's sobbing. Then Dick reached down and patted his shoulder. "Look, all the European royalty slept with their sisters, too. The kid's probably okay."

"Perhaps." Edgar snuffled. "That does not make it any less of a sin."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Well. No, I guess not. I -- I'll be right back."

"You'd better be," Dick muttered, patting Edgar's shoulder.

"I should have stayed in the cave from the first," Edgar said forlornly. "Then I would never have hurt her, or anyone else."

"Yes, but you couldn't help anyone, either, from there." Dick gave him a bracing pat on the back.

"I have helped no one!" Edgar buried his face in his hands again. "I bring misery and anguish wherever I go."

Dick rolled his eyes. "I can see why you and Bruce get along."

"Master Edgar?" Alfred called from the stairs. "I brought you cocoa."

"Cocoa?" Edgar looked up from his hands. "You are far too good to me." In a few swift movements, he met Alfred halfway up the stairs, caught up the cup of cocoa, and drained it.

"Oh, dear," said Alfred softly. "Master Dick?"

Dick followed Edgar up the stairs just in time to catch him before he fell unconscious. "Got him."

"Thank you. Perhaps we should put him to bed."

"That sounds like a good plan." Dick lifted him gently. "Good thing he's so light."

"One does one's best, master Dick. I believe it's an issue of metabolism. His room is this way."

~^..^~

Batman and Robin staked out the Happy Nappies Daycare Center, crouching on a nearby roof, while Nightwing and Batgirl kept an eye on the Cheerful Cherubs Nursery. "It's too quiet," Nightwing said, and even through her cowl he could see Batgirl raising her eyebrows. "For the Joker, I mean. He's not usually subtle." He flicked on his communicator. "There's been no sign of activity. I'm going in."

"Use caution," Batman said.

"Will do." Nightwing descended to street level, Batgirl a silent shadow beside him. It was the work of a moment to pick the lock on the door and slip inside the darkened building. Inside, the air was close with the peculiar scent of small children. In the main room, no tower of blocks had been disturbed. There was a light on down a hallway, but no sound. Batgirl approached it silently, then beckoned Nightwing over.

He blinked. In a little room with a microwave and grown-up sized chairs, the Joker hung upside down from the ceiling, tightly bound and gagged with rope. There was a large bow on his head and a sign taped to his chest saying, "I abuse children! Put me away forever, Batman!" in neat handwriting. When he saw Batgirl, his face contorted with rage and he started to struggle.

"Zip-strips," Nightwing said, and they reinforced his bonds. "Batman, we've got the Joker."

"We'll be right there."

"No, it's all right. He's under control. I think he had a lover's tiff with Harley over the kid. We can drop him off at Arkham."

~^..^~

"Need-to-know," Oracle said in Batman's ear. "Shelley Parker has returned home."

"Send Nightwing," Batman said.

Officer Dick Grayson approached the house warily. Not only was there a ten-foot chain link fence, but a pit bull prowled the front yard, which was all mud except for the spreading tree. The dog did not seem the slightest bit pacified by his police uniform. "How do these people afford insurance?" he wondered under his breath, fishing out several dog biscuits from his pocket. "Good doggie. Good doggie." With a choice between dog treats in one direction and an officer of the law in the other, the pit bull went for the treats, and Dick hustled up the walkway and rang the bell.

The woman who answered looked like she was in her forties, and would have been pretty, except that she hadn't slept in far too long. Dick pulled out his badge. "I'm with the police, making inquiries about Thomas Parker's disappearance."

"We've already answered questions."

"I have some for Shelley Parker, if she's home. Your name, ma'am?"

"Meredith Parker. Shelley's mother." The woman frowned at him. "She's only been home for a day after that terrible ordeal, and she spent hours talking to the police."

Dick shook his head sympathetically. "We can't afford to let the tracks get cold."

Shelley Parker was sitting on the couch in a bathrobe, clutching a mug between her hands and watching The Price Is Right. Her hair was mussed and she looked exhausted. She was perhaps sixteen. She looked up at Dick's approach, and her eyes lit with expectation when she saw the uniform. "Have you found him?"

"Not yet. I'm Officer Grayson. Are you Shelley Parker?" She nodded. He took out a notepad and pen. "I have a few more questions about your experiences."

"It was horrible." She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "They were so strange, and so cruel."

Dick made a note. It was redundant, due to the recorder in his pocket, but it helped to keep up appearances. "Have you been, ah, feeding the child breast milk?"

Shelley blushed. "No. I couldn't. I know it's best, but he has, um, sharp teeth. It hurt too much, and then he got hungry and got out of his c- crib, and broke my breast milk pump. After that, mother and I decided to give him formula."

Dick winced in sympathy. "I see. So he's accustomed to bottles?"

"Yes."

"And when they let you go, what happened?"

Shelley tugged the blankets closer around herself. "They had a falling out, a big argument. Thomas was crying and the man, the Joker I mean, hit him. He bit the Joker, and the Joker started swearing. The woman grabbed Thomas away from him, set him in his crib, and then said, 'I'm not gonna stand for that, Puddin.' And she knocked him over, and they fought, but she won. She tied him up. Then she told all of the men with guns to go away, that she didn't need them to raise a baby. And she untied me and said, 'Go home, toots.' I wanted to grab Thomas and run, but my hands were too weak, and she ran a lot faster than I did."

"Did she give you any hints as to where she might have gone?"

"Not at all." She looked up at Dick hopefully, her eyes red. "You'll find him, won't you?"

"We'll do our best, ma'am."

"Did you have any more questions?" Meredith Parker asked sharply. "That wasn't new information."

Dick put on his most serious, trustworthy expression, not one that would be any use in Blüdhaven. "Sometimes it's all in the phrasing of how the story is told, Mrs. Parker. Thank you, Shelley. The information will help a great deal."

"You're welcome, sir."

He nodded to them. "Have a good day, ladies."

"Let me show you out." Meredith Parker preceded him to the door. "Look, officer, I don't know how this process works, but you'd better not come poking around here again. My poor daughter is going to be fine, but you have to let her heal."

"We're doing our best, Mrs. Parker."

"That's not what she needs from you." She lowered her voice. "Is the child dead?"

Dick frowned. "Not that we know of. Do you have any information --"

"No, no. Not at all. If he were -- it might be for the best, that's all."

"I have a few questions --"

She shook her head. "I don't know anything, Officer Grayson. Please, leave my house. Search for the child."

"We'll let you know as soon as we find anything," he promised her, and left.

~^..^~

"Batman," Oracle said, hailing him over the Batcave's monitors, "I have a potential lead in the Thomas Parker case." She sent files showing pictures from her network of cameras. "There's a newcomer in a Conservative temple, claiming her Gentile husband died and she moved to be closer to her family. She has a three month old child answering Thomas's description." Another file scrolled across the monitor. "Here's the information she gave the temple on where she lives."

Robin stared at the screen, his mouth open, showing his considerably dangerous teeth. "She's raising our child Jewish? How dare she!"

"Edgar." Batman gave him a quelling look. "That is not the issue here."

"She's corrupting him. She's damning his soul. Oh, the poor child."

"That's enough." Batman stood. "As of now, you're officially off this case, and any others. I'm benching you."

Edgar stood, drawing himself up to his full height. "What? How can you do this to me? This doesn't matter to you at all."

"It matters as much as any missing child would." Batman searched for a different file. "In your free time, you're going to audit a course in comparative religions and write the papers. Tim will be able to help you. If you do not put in as much effort on this as you would any other task, you will not be Robin."

"That is not fair." Edgar scowled, his fangs making his face feral. "I could follow you. I know everything about you, now. You cannot contain me."

"I don't want to contain you, but I can't permit you to be Robin if you have such bigoted feelings." Batman folded his arms.

Edgar crouched, on the verge of springing, then regained a conscious control of himself. "I will study what you ask."

"Good." Batman nodded. "Go change your clothes." Edgar padded reluctantly upstairs.

"Not a problem you've had before," Oracle said, her tone bland.

"No. He'll learn. He has to have a better understanding of equality. I should have seen it."

Oracle sighed. "It was what he was raised with, more or less. You should listen to his favorite radio preacher. I'm sure that's where he's getting these ideas."

"Later. After we've looked into this."

"It sounds like Harley's staying with a cousin," Oracle said, pulling up several birth certificates that showed a family line. "Really getting back to her roots. The baby's brit mila was yesterday."

"The what?"

"Circumcision ceremony," Oracle said, and smirked a little when Batman winced. "So we missed that big event, but it meant that the child was officially registered in temple records as Shalom Quinzel."

Batman frowned. "Shalom. Peace."

"Maybe Harley's developing a better sense of humor. Here's the address. Are you dropping in on them tonight?"

"Might as well."

~^..^~

Harleen Quinzel had a crib in her second-floor room where the baby slept, where she could take care of the little one before he woke up Auntie Miriam. He hadn't learned how to sleep through the night yet, so at three forty-six in the morning, she was sitting up with him, rocking him back to sleep, when Batman opened her window.

"Oh, please, no." She clutched the infant to her breast. "Don't put me in Arkham, Bats. Not again. The kid needs me. He was so sick when we found him."

"What do you mean?"

"His stupid mother wasn't feeding him right." The child whimpered. She tickled him under his chin. "My pretty boy needs more than just milk, doesn't he? Yes, he does. He's not just any little boy, no no no."

"He needs to go back to his family."

"His family!" Harleen laughed, not the deranged sound of Harley Quinn's laughter, but an older, more painful sound. "You mean his mom and his grandma, and his deadbeat daddy? They didn't realize he needs good proteins in his formula. He was dying."

Batman loomed threateningly, but she didn't react. "What have you been feeding him?"

She started to sing to the child, "Mama's pretty baby loves plasma, plasma..."

"You're giving him blood?"

"He needs it! And it's not from people, Bats. I'm not that kind of crazy." Harleen rocked the baby. "Let me keep him. Please. They're gonna kill him. He's such a special little boy."

Batman sighed. "He has to go to his family."

"You can't let them hurt him." She stroked the child's bald head. "Not even if they're just too blind to see what's good for him."

"I'll find the boy's father, and send him to talk to them."

Harleen looked up. "You think that's gonna help?"

"If it doesn't, I'll do something else." Batman put out a hand to her. "Come with me. It won't be a long stay, this time. You helped with the Joker, and the courts will be lenient because of that. You can get back on the right track."

"I named him Shalom." Harleen looked at the baby. "And he is, you know, Bats? He's my peace."

"He's not yours."

"I'm the only one who takes care of him right." She patted the child on his back. "And you're not gonna throw anything at me, not when I'm holding him. So I guess that means it's time to run away." Harleen opened the door. Batman leapt after her, but she dashed out.

"Don't do this, Quinn," Batman called after her. He followed her out the door and down the stairs, looking for the front door in the murky house. It took too many heartbeats to find his way there, too much time when she could get a head start and go somewhere else, taking the innocent child.

He opened the front door at a run, dreading the sight of an empty street, and almost barreled into Robin, holding an infant against his chest with one hand and detaining a handcuffed Harleen Quinzel with the other. "Good evening, Batman," Robin said, giving Harleen a little push.

"New boy, huh?" Harleen said to Batman. "He's pretty weird. He's got prehensile toes."

Batman glanced down. Robin was barefoot. "They were very useful for taking care of the child while making sure she did not escape," Robin explained. "Shall we take her to Arkham now?"

"Yes. And then we'll take the child home. And then we need to talk."

Robin nodded, his ears moving at a slightly different pace from the rest of his head. "Of course, sir."

~^..^~

The note they left on Harleen Quinzel said, "Do not under any circumstances permit this patient anywhere near the Joker. It will facilitate her recovery to spend time with others, but she should not hear so much as his name spoken. She has begun to heal. Do not reverse the progress." It was signed with the Bat and a stylized R.

~^..^~

Meredith and Shelley Parker came running at the sound of their doorbell. They were somewhat taken aback to find Batman on their doorstep, holding a baby carrier. "Your child, Miss Parker."

"Oh, God!" Shelley grabbed the child out of the rocking bassinet and clung to him, weeping.

Batman set down the empty carrier and spoke to Meredith. "I did some preliminary genetic and dietary analysis on him, and I advise you to mix his formula half and half with beef blood. Anything else will leave him malnourished."

She paled. "Oh, my lord, how terrible."

Shelley screamed. "My baby! What have they done to my baby?"

She had pulled back the blankets to look at him more closely. Meredith stared at his bandages. "Sweet wounded Jesus!"

"Robin assures me that it's hygienic," Batman said, as emotionless as he could be. "He also asked that you give the boy no pork or pig products until he is old enough to choose such things for himself."

"What does Robin have to do with any of this?" Meredith asked bitterly. "Another child whose life you've allowed to be destroyed?"

Robin stepped out from behind the only tree in the Parker's yard. Shelley shrieked, "Edgar!" and ran to him, carrying the baby with her.

He sighed, seeming even smaller than normal. "No, Shelley. Not when I wear these clothes."

"What?" She touched his mask. "But -- Edgar --"

"Robin," he said softly, and took a step back. "I am Robin, now."

"Edgar," Meredith said, "stay away from her."

"I shall, mother," he said meekly.

She turned to Batman. "You keep that boy under control, and away from my daughter."

Batman nodded. "I agree it is in their best interests to stay apart."

"Oh, Edgar," Shelley said softly.

"I'm sorry, Shelley." He turned away from her, his cape rustling.

"Let's go inside, Shelley," Meredith said, taking her daughter by the shoulder.

Shelley looked at her mother. "But I'll never see him again. Just another moment, please --"

But when she turned around again, there was no one in the yard.


End file.
